


Snow Moon, Dark Moon

by redsnake05



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/F, Falling In Love, First Kiss, Folklore, Gardens & Gardening, Rituals
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-21
Updated: 2018-01-21
Packaged: 2019-03-07 12:48:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,825
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13435044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redsnake05/pseuds/redsnake05
Summary: Minerva and Pomona work side by side in a sweet ritual to dedicate a new greenhouse, and find themselves falling in love as they go.





	Snow Moon, Dark Moon

**Author's Note:**

  * For [octopus_fool](https://archiveofourown.org/users/octopus_fool/gifts).



Pomona paced around the little collection of pegs and ropes and glowing spell lines in delight. She'd been dreaming of this moment since before she started at Hogwarts, and it made her giddy to see the outlines neatly cast and the soil ready for turning. It had been worth coming back from holiday extra early to see everything ready for the stone, steel and glass of her new greenhouse. 

"Pomona!" called a voice, and she turned to see Minerva striding down the path.

"Hello," Pomona called back. "It's a lovely surprise to see you."

"I had to stop in for some books," Minerva said, "but I should have known I'd find you here with your new baby ready to be built."

"The Construction Witches and Arithmitects will be here tomorrow to start on the foundations," said Pomona. "I can't wait."

"You look like a smug cat with a saucer of cream," Minerva said.

"I suppose you'd know," said Pomona, "so I won't quibble over my animal self, and I am feeling rather pleased."

"Explain it to me again," said Minerva. Pomona smiled, sure that Minerva didn't really want to hear another exhaustive description of her plans, but grateful that she was pretending so that Pomona could have the pleasure of explaining it all again.

"We're at the front entrance," Pomona said. "It will look much like the other greenhouses from the outside, though rather smaller. The beds will be smaller, and raised with wider edges than the other ones." She indicated with her hand about how high, as they walked down the eastern side. "My office will be in this back corner here - I'm rather a morning person, so I'm looking forward to getting the sun on me first thing while I get some things done before breakfast."

They walked around the entire perimeter, with Pomona pointing out all the features she was especially excited about and Minerva asking questions and making admiring comments. 

"Thank you for listening," Pomona said, as they came back to the front again. 

"You've listened to me prose on many a time," Minerva said. "And I love that you're so enthusiastic about this project. It's going to be an asset to the school, just like you are."

"Thank you," Pomona said, voice squeaking breathlessly. Her cheeks felt hot and she was unsure how to respond gracefully to the praise.

"When is it likely to be finished?" Minerva asked, not seeming to notice, or politely ignoring, Pomona's embarrassment. Pomona took a deep breath and got her voice back under control.

"In October," she said. "I was hoping you might help me with a dedication, actually. A ritual for the establishment of the gardens. It's a family tradition."

"Oh, yes?" asked Minerva, her intellectual interest clearly piqued at the thought of new magic. "I'd be honoured."

Pomona was relieved. Hogwarts tended to have a very formal approach to magic, in line with the long-held traditions of intellectual mage-craft, and she hadn't been sure what Minerva's views were.

"We'll start it on Halloween," she said. "That's the new moon, which will be an entirely auspicious beginning, for November's Snow Moon - or do you call it the Dark Moon, up here?"

"Either," said Minerva. "My mother, despite my father's disapproval, always held vigil for Samhain, and she used both. I remember it was the only time she would charm witch-lights, to hover in our windows - though not the ones that faced the road."

Pomona heard the sadness lingering behind the matter of fact story, and hoped that their ritual would remind her of the sweetness of those times but not the bitter.

"Then I shall rely on you to charm the witch-lights in the windows of the greenhouse," she said.

"I look forward to it," Minerva said. 

"Let's go and have a cup of tea," Pomona said. "If you have time once you've collected your books."

"Yes, I have time for tea," Minerva replied. They turned and walked back towards the Castle, with Minerva detailing her book needs. The plot waited behind them, empty and waiting for the magic of making.

**New moon**

Pomona and Minerva left the Halloween feast as it was winding down. Their breath steamed in front of them as they crunched across the grass; winter was bearing down quickly this year. The inside of the greenhouse was warmer though, and would be nicer still once the fire had been lit. Pomona was glad she'd prepared earlier as she took off her cloak and hung it on one of the hooks by the door.  
Minerva cast the witch-lights into place in the windows, making a pretty celtic knot of light in each one. Finishing, with a whispered phrase in gaelic that Pomona didn't understand, she came to the small clear space in the middle of the greenhouse. Pomona knelt by a metal fire pit, lifted up on four small stones.

"Ready?" she asked. 

"Yes," said Minerva, settling on the other side.

Pomona cast the spell to kindle the wood, feeding it small pieces of kindling as it grew, until it cast a merry glow around the room. 

"With the light and our love, we bind this frame to its purpose," she said. "A space in which we may grow and flourish, a space to be sheltered and supported, and a place where evil cannot come."

Casting her first warding spell around the greenhouse, she let the lines of her spellwork run like rivers over the glass and steel of the framing, and down into the rock of the foundations. Minerva cast the same spell, and the resulting weaving of the lines reminded Pomona of tartan. 

She led the way to one of the beds on the northern side of the greenhouse.

"Dill," she said. "Protection from evil, and seed planting is a traditional activity for this phase. Would you like to plant some?"

Minerva took a few seeds and knelt next to Pomona. It was oddly intimate to work together, even for just a few minutes, elbow to elbow in the rich dark soil with the firelight dancing around them and the background glow of the witch-lights sparkling. Pomona murmured the spells needed to coax the seed to germination, and was rewarded by the sweet green shoots of the cotyledons opening. Soon six little seedlings stood up out of the soil and Pomona sat back, satisfied.

Minerva staggered a little as she got up and Pomona took her arm to steady her. Minerva smiled and squeezed her hand before she let go. They washed their hands in the sink in the potting area, then stood next to the fire and let them dry and warm through again.

"Now what?" asked Minerva.

"We can leave," Pomona said. "Our spell will sink into the building, and we'll meet again on first quarter for the next stage. We'll leave the fire to burn down, but we can extinguish the witch lights. It's a shame, they're so pretty."

"There is a charm you can use to levitate them with you," Minerva said. "You could take one for your window, if you wanted."

"Yes, please," said Pomona. She wanted to sleep under the delightful sparkle of Minerva's cleverness. She was sure she'd have sweet dreams.

They wrapped themselves up again, and Minerva taught Pomona the spell, smiling at her with satisfaction as she mastered it quickly and the celtic knot of witch-lights came to hover over her and light her way.

They shut the door and crunched back towards the Castle. Pomona turned back once to look again on her newest little greenhouse. The fire still cast a little light and combined with the more subtle remnants of their spellwork to make the whole thing glow faintly. She turned back to Minerva and they continued to walk side by side, tired but happy, and eager to get out of the cold.

**First quarter**

Meeting just before midnight and slipping out of the Castle together was just as fun now as it had been when a student, Pomona decided. Not that she'd done it more than once or twice, and it shouldn't really have any connotations of adventure now when it was technically work. Still, Pomona couldn't help the grin that stole across her face as Minerva joined her by the little side door closest to the greenhouses and they pulled their scarves up and hats low before braving the cold outside.

They hung their cloaks by the door and Minerva cast the witch-lights again before Pomona could light the candles. It was a different knot this time, and Pomona admired the pattern for a moment before turning her attention to the fire. Technically, they didn't need the witch-lights, but she appreciated that Minerva was adding something of herself to this ritual. It deepened it and made it specific to this time and place and the feeling that both of them were pouring into it. She added new wood to the fire pit in a neat pyramid over the ashes and kindled it briskly.

"With the light and our love, we bind this frame to its purpose," she said. "A space in which we may grow and flourish, a space to be joyous and peaceful, and a place where happiness will always be found."

This time, the lines of her spells were lush, sweeping curves that twined over the roof and down the walls in bold shapes. Minerva's nestled close, either an echo or the lead, depending on how you moved your head. They made a complex dance with each other, so close you couldn't always be sure there was any gap in their exuberant motifs. Pomona was enchanted for a long moment, and looked at Minerva to see a similar expression of awe on her face. It was exhilarating to make this beauty together.

Pomona led the way to one of the eastern beds this time, where two small seedlings waited.

"Pink roses," she said. "For happiness, and sweet rosehips full of seeds. This phase is a good time to plant things with seeds inside."

Minerva took one up without being asked, and cradled it gently as she worked it out of its little peat pot. They planted them next to each other, pressing the earth down around the roots with gentle fingers. Pomona said the charm to water them and wake their roots to greed and growth.

"Is Herbology a family tradition for you?" asked Minerva, as they washed their hands and warmed them by the fire again.

"Yes, in a sense," said Pomona. "My family is from Kent, from the High Weald. My mother is an orchardist, hence my name. She says I was conceived under her best apple tree, which is not really a story I think I needed to hear."

"And are apples a passion for you too?" asked Minerva.

"I've never been able to look at them quite the same way again, for all they are a symbol of love," Pomona said. "I've always been more for the wilds, for my father was a woodsman, sworn to the service of Ashdown Forest."

"Sworn to service?" asked Minerva.

"It's a complicated fealty," said Pomona. "Maybe, if you wanted, you could come with me one day to see it. It's hard to explain without being there."

"I would like that," said Minerva, and Pomona's heart warmed at the thought of taking Minerva to see the quiet, secret places of her youth. They put on their cloaks and Pomona levitated a witch-light to follow her.

"It was peaceful to sleep under the light," she said. Minerva's mouth curved in a small, warm smile, and she fixed the collar on Pomona's cloak with sure hands before sliding one down her sleeve to gently grip her arm for a moment.

They walked across the grass in silence, but Pomona did not feel alone for even a second.

**Full moon**

The moon shone bright through the glass in the roof. Minerva hesitated before casting her witch-lights into a complicated open wreath that framed it. 

"That's beautiful," said Pomona, face lifted to the sky. She looked down in time to see Minerva duck her head with a pleased smile, and she smiled herself as she moved to the fire pit. She'd stacked the kindling earlier, and it burned bright and quick, as they knelt next to it.

"With the light and our love, we bind this frame to its purpose," Pomona said. "A space in which we may grow and flourish, a space to be tender and gentle, and a place where love will endure."

The lines of their spells twined together almost immediately, like plaits or rope, and ran over the space swiftly, almost eagerly. The glow was intense and immediate, and Pomona felt certain she could feel Minerva's magic flowing over and around hers like hands on her skin. Her magic felt solid and steadfast, Minerva's quicker and sharper, but no less ardent. It was a beautiful feeling, like they were sinking into each other and the building itself. The lines finished, separated, and Pomona felt bereft for a long moment before gathering herself and moving to one of the southern beds. 

She'd chosen to propagate the yarrow from its rhizomes rather than sowing seed. She knelt next to Minerva and they coaxed their rhizomes under the soil with gentle fingers. Pomona chanted the slow, deep spell that reached into the earth and encouraged the rhizomes to grow and send their roots deep, while sending the fine stems of their aerial growth up.

"What have we planted today, and why?" asked Minerva.

"Yarrow," said Pomona. "A rhizome plant, because after the full moon is the time of tubers and roots. It's for everlasting love."

Minerva nodded and helped Pomona to stand, though she didn't need it. Pomona liked the feeling of Minerva's capable fingers around her elbow, though, and didn't protest. She felt strangely breathless after mentioning love between them, and they washed their hands in a silence that felt just a little tense, but not unfriendly. Instead, it felt like they were glowing, with the moon, with the witch-lights, with the fire.

As they put their cloaks on, Minerva took out her wand. Instead of dousing the witch-lights, she summoned them closer and wove them into a beautiful knot pattern, one that Pomona had never seen before, like two endless hearts. 

"For you," Minerva said.

"Thank you," Pomona said, levitating the pattern to her with the now-familiar charm. "It's beautiful," she said, thinking privately that Minerva was beautiful too.

"No, thank you," said Minerva. They left the greenhouse, and when Pomona looked back the glow of the greenhouse spell seemed to cling to them too.

**Last quarter**

Pomona paced back and forth by the door. She was early, and nervous. She turned as Minerva came down the stairs, and realised that she was nervous to see Minerva. Not because she was uncomfortable, but because she'd realised that Minerva was beautiful as well as clever and kind. She was nervous to see how their magic meshed again, and how it would feel, and if she would ever feel Minerva's fingers on her skin with as much intensity and sparkle as their magic working together.

They walked across the grass, close enough together that their cloaks brushed, and their hands occasionally. It was cold, with the sort of grey softness that heralded snow, even this early in the year. 

"Do you think it will snow?" Pomona asked. 

"Yes, a little. Just enough to be a joy, hopefully."

"Not enough to have to shovel," agreed Pomona, "although there are a few useful charms for it I've learned since teaching here. I must admit, it is less delightful as an adult than it was as a child."

"Yes, I remember you leading your House sledding one winter. I was impressed by your transfiguration of plant trays into sleds."

"I remember that! Do you know, I had forgotten that till now, but it was a fine day. Shall we go sledding tomorrow, if there is enough snow?"

"I don't think it will snow that much," said Minerva. "And no, I will wait for you at the bottom with a cup of tea and some first aid charms."

"How unkind," Pomona said. "I only broke my arm once, and the nurse said it was the cleanest, nicest break there could be."

"I would rather you did not break your arm, or any other part of you," said Minerva.

Pomona smiled and led the way into the greenhouse. They hung their cloaks and Minerva cast the spell, now-familiar, to kindle the witch-lights as Pomona checked the wood and started the fire.

"With the light and our love, we bind this frame to its purpose," Pomona said. "A space in which we may grow and flourish, a space to work and strive, and a place where humility will lead to greatness."  
The spell came quickly to them both this time, and the whole frame of the greenhouse, right down into the foundations, glowed with solid light, like their magic had fused into a seamless shell. The intensity made Minerva gasp, and Pomona looked at her and caught her own breath at the intensity of Minerva's gaze, and the beautiful red flush of colour across her cheeks. The spell was over quickly, though, leaving a quiet little space of longing behind it, where they put their wands away and pulled themselves apart.

Pomona led the way to the western beds and pressed a seedling into Minerva's hands.

"Bluebells," she said, "Witches Bells, mind, not those southern common bluebells. For a humility of spirit, and this is the phase of the moon for transplanting."

The plants took to the soil eagerly. Pomona could feel them straining with life under her fingers, and she softly urged them to use that energy to expand and grow and take up the space they wanted.  
She sat back on her heels to watch the bluebells for a moment longer. She looked away to find Minerva watching her.

"I can't figure out how you know what to say to them," said Minerva. "You use standard spells, but they're not quite the same, they feel less formed, more interpretive, but the words are the same."

"I don't know quite how it happens either," said Pomona. "It used to infuriate Dumbledore, though he was always very polite about it and pretended he didn't find my non-standard spellwork vexing."  
Minerva laughed and they stood up to wash their hands. 

"I sometimes wish I had that gift," Minerva said. "I find it hard to unbend and feel around for the magic inside something."

"Yet I have seen you do it," Pomona said. "It waits there inside you, that fearsome instinct for how to respond to magic, but sometimes you don't believe it."

"I have never been good at following my heart," Minerva said. Pomona took the towel and carefully dried Minerva's hands.

"Is it something you wish to do?" Pomona asked.

"Yes," said Minerva. Her hands slipped from Pomona's grasp. "One day, one day soon, I hope to be brave enough to do it."

They walked back to the Castle, Pomona levitating witch-lights as usual, and the first snowflakes started to fall in tiny, soft flurries.

"There will be a beautiful white blanket tomorrow," Pomona said.

"Yes," agreed Minerva, and she linked her fingers with Pomona's as they stood still for a moment and let the snow settle around them.

**New moon again**

Minerva was waiting for Pomona this time, and her face lit up when she saw her. Pomona felt her own smile, feeling too wide and giddy on her mouth, but unable to stop herself. They held hands as they walked to the greenhouse, crunching across the frost that had settled in after the snow.

Minerva lit the witch-lights in a simple circle, and Pomona knelt by the fire pit, with a bucket and a small shovel by her side. Minerva knelt across from her and watched curiously as Pomona scooped out the ashes into the bucket with steady movements. At last the firepit was empty.

"With the rich ashes and our love, we bind this frame to its purpose," Pomona said. "A space in which we may grow and flourish, a space to be ourselves, and a place where we will find what we need."

This time, there was no spell. Pomona led the way to the northern bed. The dill was soft and luxuriantly feathery, with beautiful pale yellow flowers. Pomona uprooted them and placed them in a small wheelbarrow. Minerva helped her uproot the two roses. They were small, but perfectly formed and heavily laden with beautiful pink flowers in all stages of bloom. Pomona was pleased, she hadn't been sure that they would come to flower in time, even with the magic of the ritual. The yarrow was a froth of lacy white flowers and a sweet scent, while the bluebells had long, nodding stems of the brightest blue. Pomona was delighted. She had never expected such a beautiful blossoming, and it boded well for the fertility of her greenhouse. 

They circled around again, scattering the ashes over every bed and digging them in gently. The beds glowed softly as the ashes were mixed in with the rich soil, and Pomona softly sang a spell into the soil. The second time through, Minerva joined in quietly and Pomona smiled at her so brightly she was sure she had to look ridiculous. She didn't care.

At last they finished and stood by the door, next to the wheelbarrow. The greenhouse smelled of sweet soil and flowers, and it glowed like the moon itself, in all it's fertile glory. Pomona turned slightly and gathered up some flowers. Long stems of roses formed the centre, ringed by the softer stalks of the other blooms. 

"For you," she said, turning to Minerva. "If you will accept it."

"Of course," said Minerva. "I have found where my heart has been leading me." She took the flowers from Pomona and looked in awe as about half the pink roses flushed red.

"Now, that's something I have never managed to do," Pomona said. "You must have some of that wild, creative magic somewhere."

"I still won't go sledding," Minerva replied, before leaning forward and meeting Pomona's lips with a kiss that spoke of anticipation, quiet joy, and, soon, a sparking desire. The whole greenhouse seemed to glow around them as they stood close together, careful not to crush the flowers, slowly letting the passion build between them.

"This has been a most fruitful and instructive month," said Minerva, as they broke apart.

"I hope you will stay with me tonight," said Pomona.

"Yes," said Minerva. She gathered the witch-lights, letting them swirl around the pair of them in ever-changing patterns of knots and spirals, and they let themselves out of the greenhouse. They walked back across the grass, hands entwined, ready for their next adventure.


End file.
